I should be completely "recovered", no?
Ummm, no.
My body is not my own. I am a machine. A milking machine.
I can produce milk for my growing baby. I can produce milk on demand. I can produce milk not on demand. I can produce ounces and ounces of milk around the clock.
Success! Perhaps you could even say, Recovered!
| I think I need this t-shirt |
Except when do I get to feel like myself? I guess that has nothing to do with it. My Doctor reassured me yesterday that my body was made for sustaining the life of my baby.
Basically, I am a milk machine.
Aren't I lucky? I have five external devices, not just one. As a result, I have been programmed to perform multiple other algorithms. Besides making milk, I can cook, clean, and do laundry.
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I think I go into autopilot mode in the evenings.
Start preparing supper.
Feed baby.
Continue to prepare supper while holding baby.
Bounce baby.
Put supper on the table.
Feed baby.
Start school children on their homework.
Change baby.
Remind school children to work on their homework.
Bounce baby.
Corral the two littles into a pen, stuff socks in their mouths.
Feed baby, stare at pile of dishes in the sink.
Turn off the blasted CD player. Ban anyone from banging on the piano.
Burp baby.
Push the school children in the shower.
Free the two littles and dress them in pajamas.
Feed baby, stare at pile of laundry on the floor.
Remind the children that they are supposed to be brushing their teeth.
You get the point.
By the time all the kids are sleeping, I have no energy to face the pile in the sink.
Hey, I didn't know that machines got tired! There must be some bad code. I've been gypped!
Someone re-program this machine please!!!
Hey Keilah- I like the shirt and know what it feels like to be a grading machine and tell-students-the-benefits-of-doing homework machine. Sometimes I think that the nice "me" is hidden under the machine.
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